May 3, 1964

Common Burden: Baldwin Points Duty Of Negro and White

By HOWARD TAUBMAN

ho shall speak and act for the Negro? It is the
essence of the revolution in the making--
in the United States as well as in Africa and Asia--that the Negro is determined to assert
himself in word and deed.

But if the revolution is not to be bloody, the white man has an urgent moral obligation.
As an individual, as employer or employee, as one of those who grants his franchise to a
government and his consent to be governed, he must now cast off the white man's burden
and take on the Negro's. For it is a common burden. No man is an island, and the bell
tolls equally for those who are submerged and for those who benefit or merely stand by
and watch.

In the theater, as in the various organizations fighting for a new day for dark-skinned
men, white voices have been heard this season. Alan Paton spoke with understanding in
"Sponono." a flawed dramatic work. Atholl Fugard in "The Blood Knot" makes vivid
the suspicions and tensions that divide black and white brothers in South Africa and
drives home the truth that there is no escape from the indivisibility of their destinies.
Martin Duberman has arranged documents and events of the past to transform "In White
America" into a painful, shocking history of indignity and infamy.

The Negro Speaks

But no one can report the scorched and parched terrain in the regions of Negro minds like
the Negro himself. This personal testimony, growing in size and volume, is being offered
increasingly in the theater.

Several years ago, Lorraine Hansberry broke through with "A Raisin in the Sun," which
revealed in homely terms that Negroes are people with problems that parallel those to be
found in white domestic comedies. Then Ossie Davis offered "Purlie Victorious," a
broad satirical look, from the Negro viewpoint, at Negro stereotypes complacently
established by white men, fearfully accepted by a few frightened Negroes and rudely
ridiculed by the great Negro majority.

This season there is the one-act "Dutchman" by LeRoi Jones, a young Negro writer.
With power and anger, Mr. Jones lashes out scornfully at the white person who offers
friendship to a cautious Negro, but who ends by being an insidious provocateur.

And now we have James Baldwin in "Blues for Mister Charlie," summoning the Negro to
battle even as he grieves for "Mister Charlie," the white man, as the Negro calls him.

Mr. Baldwin is a preacher and a rhapsodist. "Blues for Mister Charlie" is an angry
sermon and a pain-wracked lament. It draws together the humiliation, degradation,
frustration and resentment felt by millions relegated to second-class citizenship and
transmutes the accumulated bitterness into a roar of fury. Listen attentively to Mr.
Baldwin if you want to know the Negro who now is emerging from behind the
noncommittal mask.

Mr. Baldwin is not quite so good with the white man. His fearful, unreconstructed white
Southerners are close to caricature. His account of their ignorant, superstitious,
malevolent opinions is probably well-founded. One can hear similar obscenities in the
North.

Effective Character

But a dramatist makes his point most forcefully when his antagonist is drawn from
strength. Mr. Baldwin's most effective white character is Parnell, the one decent white
man. Parnell fails the Negro, and, this failure not only is pitiful but also intensifies the
play's anguish and wrathful militancy.

Through Parnell's eyes, Mr. Baldwin lets us look at the inexpressible suffering of a Negro
soul. Parnell, played by Pat Hingle with a sense of humility and shame, remembers his
love for a Negro girl and describes in simple, lacerating terms how her mother, a servant
in his family's home, looked and behaved when she discovered them together.

Although this Negro mother does not appear on the stage, she will haunt you. Mr.
Baldwin passes a miracle in evoking a wounded human being in a few piercing
sentences. He can also write long, soaring speeches that shake the theater with their
passion. But these speeches are not a theatrical gesture. They lay bare the heart of the
Negro's suffering and explain the iron of his determination.

There is Richard, played flamingly by Al Freeman Jr., who has returned to his father's
home in the South after a stay in the North. He is explosive with rebellion. He is not
merely demanding his rights; he is insolent, spoiling for a fight. He speaks for the Negro
who is beyond civility in his frantic pursuit of full civil and human rights.

There is his father, the Rev. Meridian Henry, played with stunning dignity by Percy
Rodriguez, who has been civil and controlled. But in his eulogy for his murdered son, he
passes the bounds of self-discipline and thunders a warning that he, too, is on the march.

Other Roles

There is the girl, Juanita, who has loved Richard and has hoped for a fruitful life together.
In a wild commingling of distress and exaltation, she lashed out at the waste of a young,
ardent being and apostrophizes the wonder in the possibilities of fulfillment. Diana
Sands, who showed in last season's "Tiger Tiger Burning Bright" that she could be a fiery
actress, is an intense blue flame in this scene.

There is Richard's grandmother, played wisely by Rosetta Le Noire, who says as much as
anyone with no words at all. Brought to the witness stand, she is reminded, by the
prosecutor that she has never complained about her treatment. Her answer is an ironic
"Uh-uh," another flashing insight into a Negro history.

Mr. Baldwin has not written a trim, well-made play. He has not bothered about routine
procedure of suspense and realism. His trial scene is not a serious courtroom but a rough
cartoon and an enraged rostrum. He moves freely and smoothly from present to past and
back to present, from reality to memory and soliloquy. Burgess Meredith's staging on
Feder's bare, marvelously lit set follows and often fills out the loosely constructed design.

Mr. Baldwin speaks fervidly for the Negro's anguish and passion, and none of us can
afford not to heed him.